A Week in Paris
by NostalgiaKick
Summary: Seven months after the events in the episode "The Phoenix," Clark is living a nomadic existence in Europe as a foreign correspondent. But when the world's art treasures start disappearing, Clark must deal with the circumstances that drove him from Metropolis. Eleven chapters and an epilogue.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: This picks up 7 months after The Phoenix.**

 **Disclaimer: All recognisable characters, plot lines etc. are property of DC Comics, Warner Bros and December 3rd Productions.**

The alarm's insistent beeping broke into Clark's dream. He reached out and shut it off without opening his eyes. If he kept them closed, maybe he could reclaim a little of the dream... A dream where Lois loved him and he was actually happy.

Groaning, he opened his eyes and looked around at the sparsely furnished confines of his tiny studio apartment. Nope; still in Paris.

Sighing, he dragged himself out of bed and into what served as a bathroom. He splashed water on his face, trying to wake up properly. In the mirror, he dimly noted the scruffy beard. For a moment he considered just leaving it, then hesitated. Superman couldn't be seen with a beard. Sighing again, he reached for the hand mirror. Superman was the one thing that gave his life purpose any more, but it was getting harder by the day to maintain the image expected of the superhero. He refused to think about what would happen when he no longer cared about Superman either.

Six months had passed since he'd left Metropolis, leaving behind his friends, his job, his home and moved to Paris. Six, endless, interminable months of travelling from assignment to assignment as a foreign correspondent, spending only a day or two at his apartment in Paris before the next story, the next city beckoned.

Six months without Lois.

His shoulders slumped. Seven months since he'd asked her out and been shot down. He could still remember every single moment of that particular conversation. The look of surprise on her face, the automatic rejection in her eyes before she even opened her mouth... her total scuttling of all his hopes and dreams. He gripped the small vanity. Even now, it still hurt as much as it had that day in the Planet newsroom. Naively, he'd thought that maybe they could be okay, that they could salvage their friendship. That being her best friend would-had to- suffice. But he'd been wrong. It had been the beginning of the end. Between Lois's rejection, Mayson's death and Lois's relationship with Daniel Scardino, staying in Metropolis had become a nightmare.

Paris was turning out to be just as tortuous.

Leaning closer to the mirror, he inspected the closeness of the shave, ignoring the dark circles under his eyes and the dullness in them. Close enough. Shrugging into his suit, he left the apartment, as ready as he was going to be to face another day.

Fresh from an assignment- Brussels this time- he picked up a copy of the European edition of the Daily Planet to sip with his coffee at the cafe down the street from his apartment building. Sitting down with his espresso, he opened the newspaper and prepared to catch up on what had been happening in his absence.

A small piece caught his eye, lamenting that the arms of the Venus de Milo had been taken off exhibit in the Louvre. Frowning, he folded the paper and put it back on the table. He'd heard a rumour while in Brussels that Gainsborough's _Yellow Boy_ had been removed from show in the British Royal Academy, ostensibly for restoration. He'd thought it odd at the time. He'd seen _Yellow Boy_ himself when he'd recovered it from that bunker full of art treasures- and his globe- under Metropolis, and to his, admittedly inexpert, eyes, the painting had seemed to be in perfect condition. But he'd ignored it. It had been two years since he'd seen the painting, and any number of things could have happened to it in the meantime.

Almost anyone else would've dismissed the idea that the two stories were in any way related. But he had been the one to find the art works. Gainsborough's _Yellow Boy_ , the arms of the Venus de Milo, Beethoven's Tenth Symphony, the full length Mona Lisa, Van Gogh's 'other' self portrait... They all had one thing in common.

Finishing the last of his espresso, he left a tip and ducked into a nearby alley. Paris was conveniently well provided with dark alleyways. One of his old friends was on the Louvre's custodial staff. Maybe Leo could help.

Landing out of sight a block or so away from the famous art gallery, Clark spun back into street clothes. There was a cafe nearby where the custodial staff tended to spend their breaks. If he was to find Leo anywhere, it would be there.

The cafe was busy at this time of day, full of workers heading to- or from- their places of employment. This particular cafe catered more towards the lower working class. It was respectable but not fancy, and had a local reputation of good food and strong coffee for low prices, making it one of the more popular cafes in this area of Paris.

Spotting Leo near the back of the crowded eatery, Clark adroitly made his way towards his quarry.

"Bonjour, Leo." Clark greeted his acquaintance in flawless French.

"Clark! I hadn't heard you were back in town. Where were you this time?"  
"Brussels. I got back last night."  
"Are you in town long?" As he spoke, Leo gestured towards a newly freed table nearby. Quickly Clark sat, knowing that if he didn't the table would soon be claimed by someone else.

"No, I have to be in Vienna by the end of the week."

"They don't give you much time off between assignments."

"I don't mind" Clark said quietly. Work gave him something to do other than Superman duties or brood about Lois Lane.

He switched back to English, knowing that it would make their conversation harder to follow for anyone who happened to be listening in.

"There's a story circulating that the arms of the Venus de Milo have been taken off exhibit without explanation."

Leo's face darkened. "We- the custodial staff- were told that they'd been removed for cleaning and restoration."

"Funny" Clark remarked. "I saw them when I visited the Louvre a month or so ago. They didn't seem to be in any need of restoration then. Did something... untoward... happen?"

"They didn't need any work done. " Leo stated baldly. He lowered his voice. "Pascal- a friend of mine- works in the restorations department. He said that the arms weren't slated for any work to be done for almost 2 years. And- they haven't been logged into the restorations department."

"So where are they?"

Leo shrugged. "No one knows." He looked at his watch. "I must go. Marie will be expecting me." With that, he got up and exited the cafe, leaving Clark lost in thought.

…

Clark entered the crowded space that constituted the European bureau of the Daily Planet. It was always a bit of a rabbit warren, but at the moment it was worse than usual. Most of the travelling correspondents were back in Paris, preparing for the European leaders summit in Vienna at the end of the week.

Threading his way between the desks, he finally arrived at the editor's office. Tapping on the door, he waited for the reply of 'enter' before opening the door and sticking his head inside the office.

"Joe? Do you have a minute?"

Joe Patterson, editor in chief of the European bureau, looked up from the papers he was studying. He was close to being Perry White's polar opposite. Tall and lanky, he seemed to talk, move and think at double speed. It had taken Clark a few weeks to get used to him, but he'd recognised that Joe was almost as canny and insightful as Perry White. With that knowledge had come respect.

"Sure Kent, what do you need?"  
Clark settled into the chair in front of the editor's desk and outlined what he'd found. He leaned forward. "I think there's something there. The thing is, I don't have time to investigate it until after the summit. And by then..."

"By then, more of the artworks may have disappeared." Joe concluded. "I don't have any other reporters free until then either. Between this summit and the usual news team, I just can't spare any one."

Tentatively, Clark put forward the idea that had occurred to him at the cafe.

"What about the Metropolis office?"

Joe sat forward. "You want to see if Perry White will send someone over?"

"Well, the artworks are on loan from the Metropolis Museum of Art." Clark pointed out.

Joe thought it over for a few moments. "Okay. Get in touch with Perry."

Clark nodded and left the office. Scanning the room, he found a temporarily vacant desk and logged on to the computer. He spent comparatively little time in the office, so he didn't have a desk of his own. It had irked him at first, but he'd learned to adapt.

Opening up the email program, he sat for a second, mentally composing what he wanted to say.

" _Chief_

 _I came across something over here today. The arms of the Venus de Milo have been taken off exhibit at the Louvre- apparently for restoration. What got my attention is it's the second major artwork that's been removed for 'restoration' in a week that was found in the vault under Metropolis by Superman two years ago. The restorations department at the Louvre has no record of the arms entering their department._

 _It could be coincidence, but I don't think it is. Neither does Joe._

 _The problem is, we're short staffed here. I don't have time to investigate and Joe can't spare anyone. Can you help?_

 _Clark_

"I didn't know Perry knew how to use email" Joe commented from behind him.

Clark turned ."Jimmy Olsen taught him how to use it a couple of months ago. Now he's signed up to just about every Elvis mailing list there is."

He'd laughed when he'd gotten the email from Jimmy. Knowing Perry's previous reluctance to use computers, he'd agreed with Jimmy's comment that collecting more Elvis trivia was the only thing that could've convinced him that they were anything more than fancy typewriters. Now Clark got regular emails from Perry and Jimmy- and the occasional one from Lois. He pushed that thought out of his head. Closing the email program, he set to work writing his latest report on the plane crash that had taken him to Brussels.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Her latest story, Lois decided, was a washout. That seemed to be happening more often lately. In fact, she had to admit the last couple of months had been a bit of a dry spell. 'Try 6 months' a voice in the back of her head said 'ever since Clark left.'

It had nothing to do with Clark leaving, she told herself fiercely. She was better off without him. Besides, he couldn't possibly have cared about her, or he wouldn't have left.

No matter how many times she told herself that, it never rang true. The truth was, she missed Clark. She glanced at the vacant desk, across from hers. The only person that dared use it was Jimmy, and that was only occasionally. As far as she was concerned, it was still Clark's desk, and woe betide the person that tried to claim it as their own.

The sound of her name pulled her out of her reverie.

"Lois? Can I see you for a moment?" Perry was standing in the doorway of his office, looking at her.

Quickly she got up and joined her editor, closing the door behind her.

"How's the story going?"

"Not well," she admitted. "It's not panning out."

"Okay. Well, sometimes they don't. But now Lois, that's been a few in a row. Is uh, everything okay?"

"Everything's fine, Perry" she insisted.

"Okay then." He let the subject drop. "I've got another assignment for you. It's overseas... in Paris."

Her heart leapt in spite of herself. Paris. That's where Clark was.

"Now, I was going to send Friaz, but he can't go. His wife had an accident and broke her leg."

Lois winced, but couldn't help feeling that Eduardo's wife's bad luck had been her good luck.

"Clark sent me an email yesterday about artworks going missing. The artworks that Superman found in that vault a couple of years ago. Clark thinks they're linked, and since you wrote the original story, well, it makes sense to send you along." He leaned forward. "Is that, ah, going to be a problem? Cause when he left here, you weren't exactly getting along."

Her heart skipped a beat and she fought to keep her voice level as she replied.

"It's fine Chief. That was a long time ago."

He gave her a measuring look. "Well okay then. You fly out this afternoon." Perry handed her the tickets. "You've got a week. I can't spare you longer than that." He paused, giving her that measuring look again as she tried to keep an expression of professional interest on her face. For a moment, she thought she was about to be on the receiving end of one of Perry's Elvis stories, but then he dismissed her to go and pack.

She left the editor's office and headed for the elevators, trying to make a mental list of what she needed to pack, and failing.

Perry hadn't said outright that she'd be working with Clark, but surely he'd be there, right? Even if only to outline what he knew about the missing artworks before moving on to whatever he was doing? Try as she might, she couldn't entirely contain the excited, fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach at the thought of seeing him again.

Jimmy Olsen accosted her before she made it to the elevator. Ever since Clark left, he'd been pretty much the only person at the Planet that still talked to her. Just about everyone else blamed her for Clark's leaving. Privately, she admitted that they might be right. Clark asking her out might have been the beginning of the end, but it hadn't had to finish in him leaving Metropolis.

"Hey Lois! Heading out on a story?"

"Kind of, Jimmy. Perry's sending me to Paris."

Lois kept moving as she spoke, hoping to hide the nervous anticipation she felt. Fortuitously, the elevator was already on the newsroom floor, opening its doors as soon as she pushed the button.

"Paris! When? Are you going to go see Clark?"

"This afternoon, and I'm not sure." She entered the elevator car and turned to face the doors and her wide eyed younger friend.

"Sorry Jimmy, but I have to go home and pack."

His reply was cut off by the doors closing.

...

As the 7 hour flight neared its end, Lois became more and more jittery. It had been six months since Clark left. Superman had left two weeks later, citing the increasingly unstable relationship between Eastern and Western Europe as the reason. And Lois' relationship with Dan Scardino hadn't survived long past that.

Since then, her interactions with Clark had been a total of a handful of awkward emails ( _'How's Paris?' 'Fine. How's Metropolis?' 'Fine.'_ ) and another handful of equally stilted encounters with Superman.

Funny how things worked. After his precipitous departure from Metropolis, Lois had quickly figured out that Clark Kent and Superman were one and the same person. It wasn't one big thing that had tipped her off, either. No, it was a whole bunch of little things that she'd routinely dismissed about Clark Kent that had suddenly made sense. The constant disappearances, the bizarre excuses, the miraculous return from the 'dead'. She'd been furious at first, but then she'd remembered how she'd treated him, fawning over Superman and dismissing Clark and her fury had turned to embarrassment.

He had no idea that she knew, either. She sighed. It wasn't the only epiphany she'd had about Clark Kent since he'd left Metropolis. She'd cut him off at the knees when he'd asked her out- brutally, she realised now- out of fear and a desire to stop things from changing. She winced away from the memory of her ill considered words. _'I'm sorry, Clark... I just don't feel that way about you. You're my best friend. It'd be like dating my brother.'_

It was only after he'd gone that she'd put the pieces together and figured out that the reason she was so devastated by his leaving was because she, Lois Lane, was in love with Clark Kent.

Lois gave herself a little shake. She had to put those feelings aside. She'd as good as told him that she would never care about him in that way, and besides, he didn't love her. If he had, he wouldn't have left.

All of this was adding to up to one awkward reunion. As the plane drew closer to Charles de Gaulle airport, she was torn between alternately hoping she'd get to spend some time with Clark (even if was just business) and praying she wouldn't have to.

...

"Hey Kent!"

Clark looked around and saw Joe gesturing towards his office.

"Come in here a minute,will you?"

Putting down the folder he'd been looking at, Clark made his way across to the editor's office.

Without preamble, Joe Patterson said "I've got a message from Perry White. He says that a reporter from the Metropolis office will be here this afternoon. I need you to go out to the airport and pick them up, fill them in on the way here. Here's the flight information." He handed Clark a sheet of paper.

"Who's Perry sending?" Clark asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"An Eduardo Friaz. You know him?"

Clark nodded. "He's capable."

Joe leaned back in his chair. "I'm surprised he didn't send your old partner. Didn't she write the original story?"

"Yes, she did." He'd given her the credit in the end, too relieved to have his globe back before whoever had had it had found out the truth about him. "Knowing Lois, she's probably busy with something else."

Joe waved a hand. It was Clark's cue to leave, that Joe had turned his attention to his next task. He exited the office, checking the flight information on the paper Joe had given him. He'd take the old runabout car the Planet office kept out to Charles de Gaulle. Checking the time, he headed for the elevator to the parking garage, detouring to pick up the folder he'd been reading on the way.

...

Clark shoehorned the battered little Fiat into the last legal park he could find close to Terminal 2, where the American Airlines flight from Metropolis was due to land.

With a judicious application of super breath, he gently nudged the car in front of him forward so it no longer overhung into his parking spot. Parking could be a little haphazard here, he'd noticed. He didn't drive much any more, finding the local drivers to be aggressive even by Metropolis standards. Snagging the folder he'd brought off the passenger seat, he headed inside to wait.

He hadn't worked with Eduardo much while he'd been in Metropolis and thus didn't know him very well. Any connection with his friends at the Planet was welcome however, no matter how tenuous.

Finding the correct gate took a few wrong turns. Charles de Gaulle Airport was one of the busiest in the world, and was also notoriously difficult to navigate. Finally arriving, he found a seat where he could see the exit from the Customs hall and settled down to read.

He'd read through the material sent to him by a contact in the American embassy in London at a normal human pace, knowing there were too many people to risk using his super speed. Even so, when he got to the end of the file there was still no sign of Eduardo. He frowned. Either Eduardo was taking a very long time to get through Customs, or he'd missed the flight.

Clark leafed through the material again, pausing every couple of minutes to check for his former co-worker.

On one such glance he saw a very familiar face in the crowd of people exiting Customs. He froze, his heart skipping a beat. Slowly he rose from his seat.

Lois spotted him and called out "Clark!," waving happily as she rushed across the crowded area. Reaching him, she threw herself at him. Instinctively he wrapped his arms around her, forgetting himself enough to crush her against him and bury his face in her silky dark hair. She felt so incredibly good, like the part of his soul that had been missing had suddenly returned. He relaxed his grip on her enough for her to lean back. Their gazes locked for a long, charged moment before he let her go abruptly and stepped back, coughing to hide his embarrassment.

"Lois, what are you doing here? I ah- I expected Eduardo."

"His wife was in an accident" Lois explained. "And since I wrote the original story, Perry sent me instead." She paused, then added quietly "It's good to see you, Clark."

"It's good to see you too, Lois." Clark replied automatically.

And it was, but it was also incredibly bittersweet. Leaving Metropolis had felt like someone had inserted a tiny sliver of Kryptonite into his heart, enough to cause a constant aching-but one he could deal with. It hurt, but he still functioned. With Lois here beside him again, it was if someone had twisted the sliver, ripping an ever larger hole in his heart. For a moment he almost hated Perry for sending her, of all people.

Covering the shaft of anger, he picked up Lois' suitcase and carry-on, gesturing for her to start walking. He guided her through the terminal and to the car. His lips twitched into a smile as he saw her survey the ill-treated vehicle, disbelief on her face. Finally she turned. "Nice car, Clark" she observed sarcastically.

"It's the Planet's" he informed her. Opening the hatchback, he stashed Lois' belongings inside before climbing back into the driver's seat. Realising how close he was to Lois in the confines of the tiny Panda, he surreptitiously tried to angle his shoulders away from her. Right now, the last thing he needed was any more physical contact with Lois Lane.

Getting onto the road he needed to get back to the city proper, he glanced at Lois. "Where to first? The Planet office or your hotel?"

"Hotel", she decided.

"Okay." The hotel Perry had booked her into was only a block or so from the Planet offices, not far from the American embassy. "I've got to fill you in on the story."

"So why aren't you working this story? Why get me all the way here from Metropolis?" she asked curiously.

"This"- he gestured to the folder on the dashboard- "isn't what I do any more. I'm a foreign correspondent, Lois. I don't have time to chase this down between assignments. I have to be in Vienna tomorrow night. There's a summit, a meeting of European leaders that might actually have a chance at settling the tensions between Eastern and Western Europe. In the scheme of things, some stolen artworks just isn't as important." He paused, organising his thoughts. "Anyway. Two of the artworks Superman found in the vault under the Metropolis Museum of Art have disappeared in the last week- _Yellow Boy_ and the arms of the Venus de Milo. All the artworks are in Europe at the moment. They're on loan to various museums, all to the countries they came from." He slid the folder off the dashboard and gave it to her. "I got this from a contact, a friend of mine in London. The thieves over there had genuine work orders to remove _Yellow Boy_ from display and take it to an outside restorer that the museum has used many times. Because they'd been signed by the head of the restorations department, no one questioned the orders. The painting was loaded onto a truck and hasn't been seen since."

She leafed through the documents in the folder. "Any security cameras?"

"They were down that day. Some kind of glitch. They'd been having issues on and off for a week."

They exchanged looks.

"Yeah I don't believe it either. The robbery here... Officially the arms are being restored. But Leo- my contact at the Louvre- says they're not in the restorations department and the head of that section suddenly took a vacation. I'll take you meet Leo later."

"Where is the section chief now?"

"I'm not sure. He's gone to ground somewhere and I haven't been able to find out where."

He indicated and pulled into the driveway of Lois' hotel. "Got your passport?"

She gave him an odd look.

"You'll need it to check in."

...

After a brief stop at Lois' hotel to drop off her luggage, they made the short trip to the building that housed the European bureau of the Daily Planet. One of the premier English-language European newspapers, its outlook was a little more multinational than its American parent. It was also a smaller operation, Lois knew. But she wasn't expecting it to be this small.

It reminded her of the temporary offices they'd used after the destruction of the Metropolis office. Desks were crowded close together, there was barely enough room for people to move around and the noise level was cacophonous. Clark noticed the look on her face.

"It takes some getting used to." Gesturing ahead towards the center of the conglomeration, he continued. "We'll just check in with Joe- Joe Patterson, he's my editor- and then try to find you a desk. It's not usually this crowded, but pretty much all of the correspondents are in at the moment, before we all head out to Vienna."

"Can't I just use your desk?" Lois asked.

He shook his head. "I don't have one."

That stopped Lois in her tracks. "You don't have a desk?"

"I'm not here often enough. Last month, I was only in Paris for six days between assignments."

For some reason that brought Lois to a forceful realisation of how much he'd given up when he moved here. Paris was supposed to be his home now- and yet he'd spent less than a week here out of the past month? He didn't even have his own work space? She'd always known he'd travelled a lot before moving to Metropolis, but he'd seemed so settled, so happy there.

She watched him as they traced a path through the desks to the editor's office. The Clark she'd known would've exchanged greetings and smiles with just about everyone he came across in such close proximity. Here, he barely even looked at the occupants of the desks.

Lois gave herself a mental shake. Don't you dare feel sorry for him, she told herself. He chose this. No one made him leave.

...

Joe Patterson wasn't what Lois had expected. She'd pictured someone more like Perry, an unhurried bear of a man that commanded respect, not this tall, lanky man who bordered on the hyperactive. Clark, however, seemed to respect him, and so Lois took her cue from him-for now. After the initial introductions were performed, Joe settled back down behind his desk.

"We were expecting someone else" he noted.

"Eduardo's wife was in an accident" Lois explained.

Joe nodded. "Okay. Well, that actually makes things easier. To be honest, I was surprised that Perry wasn't sending you in the first place. Clark, fill her in and find her a desk."

With that, he looked back at the layout he'd been working on.

Clark opened the door and ushered her back into the newsroom

"Well, he doesn't waste time on small talk, does he?" Lois observed.

"Not that I've noticed." They wended their way through the desks again, this time heading for the one vacant desk that Lois could see in the place. It was in an awkward spot, wedged in between a doorway and a water cooler with not much room to spare for a chair. Only someone of Lois' slim build would be able to fit behind it- which, she guessed, was why it hadn't been claimed on a permanent basis. Clark surveyed it with disfavour. "I forgot how cramped this desk is. Do you think you can use it for now? Once we-" his gesture encompassed the rest of the crowded newsroom "head out tomorrow, I'm sure you'll be able to claim a better one."

"It's fine, Clark. Really" she reassured him. "So. What's next?"

"I've arranged a meeting with Leo- he's my contact at the Louvre." He glanced at his watch. "If we leave now, we'll just make it."

...

The eatery in a side street near the Louvre seemed to cater to blue collar workers, Lois thought. At this time of day it wasn't particularly full, though the noise level was still high enough to make a conversation hard to overhear. In that respect, it was perfect for meeting with sources. Clark had always had a knack for finding out of the way places like this, she reflected. Beside her, he spotted the person he was looking for and gestured for her to precede him.

Leo was fortyish with dark sandy hair and a thin face. Dressed in a navy blue coverall, he'd obviously just come from work. Clark had explained that he and Leo were old friends, that they'd met when Clark had been travelling around the world before he came to Metropolis. Leo seemed nervous to Lois, not like someone who was meeting an old friend.

They sat down at the table he was occupying and ordered coffee before Clark introduced Lois. Lois was relieved to hear Leo's lightly accented English, doubting that her dimly remembered high school French would be sufficient to get by in Paris by herself. They made small talk for a few minutes, until their coffee arrived, but Leo was unable to hide his discomfiture. "Clark, can I see you over here for a moment?"

Clark looked at Lois. She waved for him to go ahead, but watched curiously as they got up and sat down at a table at the back of the cafe. The little cafe was filling up with people now, making it hard to see exactly what was going on.

...

"What's wrong, Leo?" Clark asked.

"I was expecting you to come alone."

"Lois is the one working the story, Leo. You know I don't do this kind of reporting any more. And I have to be in Vienna tomorrow night. So what's the problem?"

"Can you trust her?"

Clark blinked at the blunt query. Leo had never questioned the trustworthiness of one of Clark's friends, at least not in his presence.

"Yes. I trust her with my life, Leo. What is going on?"

Leo sighed and gestured to a shadowy table at the back of the crowded cafe. "I brought Pascal with me. There is something else going on at the museum, and the restorations staff has been threatened. Pascal is very nervous. I had to talk him into meeting you. I don't know if he will talk to your friend."

"Well, let's ask him."

Leo hesitated for a moment before nodding and leading Clark to the table in the shadows.

Pascal shrunk back at their approach, turning to Leo with a desperate expression. "You said he would be alone!"

Leo shrugged. "I thought he would be."

Fixing his stare on Clark, Pascal asked "Who is the woman?"

"Her name is Lois Lane. She's my friend- my old work partner from Metropolis. She's the best reporter I've ever worked with. She won't put you in danger." Clark leaned forward over the table. "You can trust her, Pascal."

Pascal looked to Leo for confirmation. "If Clark says you can trust her, you can believe him" Leo reassured him.

Pascal sat in indecision, looking between Clark and Leo, before nodding. "Okay. I will talk to this Lois."

Clark turned and got Lois' attention, waving her over.

One she was settled at the table, Leo began.

"Okay Pascal, tell them what you told me."

Pascal glanced from side to side before beginning in heavily accented English.

"I work in the restorations department... it's my job to transport the artworks to and from the gallery, you see? And to organise transport to outside restorers. Every piece that's moved... it all goes through me, you understand?"

Lois and Clark nodded.

"The arms...I did not organise that. But the workers, they had papers. Papers from my department." He looked to Leo for help to find the words.

"Orders."

"Yes, orders. They had orders from my department to take the arms. But I did not sign them. They were signed by Cesar Mathieu."

"That's unusual?" Lois asked.

"Yes. He can order this, of course. But it usually goes through my office. All the time, it goes through my office. This time, it didn't go through my office."

He leant forward. "There is more. Two days ago, the same men came and picked up another crate. I was on my lunch... I was outside when they carried it out. The crate was badly made, not from my department. It wasn't closed properly. I saw what was in it."

"What was it?"

" _La Complet Joconde_ " he said simply.

Lois looked at Clark for clarification

"The full length Mona Lisa" he murmured. "You mean, the one on display..."

"Is a fake." Pascal stated baldly. "The men, they threatened my family. I sent them away and I went into hiding. _La Complet Joconde_ has been lost for many years. I cannot let her be lost again."

"So that's why Mathieu disappeared" Clark breathed.

"Yes. The fake... it is good, but someone will notice."

"What were the men driving?" Lois asked.

"A van. Just an ordinary cargo van, a white one with Paris registration. Maybe a Renault or a Citroen" Pascal answered. "I'm not sure. I am not good with cars." He paused. "The letters on the registration were GX, I remember that much."

Pascal looked around once more, then stood. "Find her. Please."

Then he was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"What now?"

"Now, we get some lunch and go back to the Planet." He was looking at her quizzically.

"What?" she demanded.

"Lois, have you ever been to Paris?"

She shook her head.

"I didn't think so. Let's get take out; we'll walk back to the Planet."

Lois protested; they only had limited time after all. Clark overruled her.

"The Tuileries is between here and the office. You should see at least some of Paris while you're here."

"When you put it like that, how can I resist?"

…

They entered the Tuileries from a side gate near the Metro station and wended their way through the formal garden beds to a low terrace. Spotting an empty bench, Clark moved quickly to claim it. Entranced, Lois moved to the low wall at the edge of the terrace. From her vantage point, she could see a large part of the extensive gardens, as well as part of the pools at either end. She'd seen photos of the Tuileries before, but they didn't do it justice. Standing there, she could understand why it had been a focal point for Parisian art and life for so long. It was easy to picture Bonaparte's procession and the great Impressionist artists, as well as a host of other Parisian notables.

Finally she walked away from the wall and joined Clark on the bench. He handed over the bag containing her lunch and unwrapped his own sandwich.

"The Tuileries has a rich history" he commented.

"It's beautiful. Completely different to Centennial Park back home. It's more wild, more unplanned."

He nodded in agreement. "So how are things back in Metropolis?"

"Well Jimmy taught Perry how to use the Internet. I think he only uses it to look up Elvis websites; he's gotten even more Elvis stories than ever before."

Clark nodded again. "I get emails from him from time to time. I was surprised to get the first one, didn't think Perry would ever get the hang of email."

"Well, Jimmy is persistent."  
"How's Jimmy doing?"  
"He's good. Actually Perry's been letting him take photos for the occasional story. You should see his face every time Perry uses one for the front page."

"I can imagine."  
"Yeah. Well between that and the fact that he seems to have a new girlfriend every month, life's going pretty well for Jimmy."

"He's young. He'll settle down." Clark crumpled his sandwich wrapper in his hand. "And you? How are things with you and Dan?"

The question was careful, like someone prodding an open wound.

"Dan and I broke up months ago."

"Oh. What happened?" His voice was gentle and caring.

"Well he was in Metropolis for two months and in that time we managed to go on six dates. Then he went back to Washington." She shrugged. "I guess we just didn't have a lot in common." The excuse sounded lame even to her, but she couldn't tell Clark the real reason they'd broken up. That by the time Dan came back from Washington Clark had left and Superman was gone and she'd been a wreck. That Dan had broken things off with her, telling her to go to Paris, find Clark and admit that she loved him. She'd denied it to Dan, but had had to face facts herself. She loved Clark Kent.

"I'm sorry, Lois."

"Don't be" she answered, her voice soft. She caught herself looking into his eyes and glanced away, crumpling the paper wrappings from her sandwich and standing up. "We should get back to the Planet."

...

Arriving back at the Planet office, Clark stopped at the bank of pigeon holes used by the transient staff to receive messages. As he hoped, there was one waiting from Brad. Reading it, he felt his heart sink. Behind him, he barely heard Lois as she asked him whom he got to do research. Not getting a response, she laid her hand on his arm.

"Clark? Is everything okay?"

He waved the sheet of paper. "It's a message from Brad Hancock, my contact in London. Bernard Young- the head of the restorations department at the Royal Academy- has been found floating in the Thames."

Lois looked at him, aghast. "Murdered?"

He shook his head. "Brad says it looks like suicide." He crumpled the message in his fist. "We've got to figure this out, Lois."

"We will, Clark" she reassured him. "We'll stop whoever is doing this." She gave him a smile. "We always do, right?"

"Yeah" he replied. "We do... or at least we did. Anyway" he changed the subject "I don't normally have to do a lot of research in the office, I'm usually on the road somewhere. And I've never had to get anyone here to do anything... sensitive."

Lois thought for a moment. "What about Jimmy?"

Clark raised an eyebrow "Do you think he'd do it?"

Lois shrugged. "It can't hurt to ask. I think he misses working with you." She paused. "We all do."

"I miss you guys too" he said quietly.

He checked his watch and did a rapid calculation. "It's only 6am in Metropolis. Jimmy won't be in yet."

He moved towards Lois' temporary desk and gestured to the computer. "Do you mind?"

At her assent he leaned over the side of the desk and quickly composed an email. Hitting send, he straightened back up and looked at her. "I asked him to get a list of all the white vans registered in the Paris districts with the letters GX in their plates. I also asked if he could try and trace Cesar Mathieu from his passport, but that might take a while even for Jimmy. He'll email the information to you, in case I'm gone by then." He checked his watch again. "I have to be at the airport in... just over 28 hours."

"Can't you take a later flight?"

Her unusually demure tone should have warned him, but he was rusty when it came to dealing with Lois Lane.

"No, it's the last flight I can take that'll get me there on time. There's a reception I have to be at tomorrow night."

"You sure you can't"- she made a strange gesture, like something taking off- "get there another way?"

He stared at her for a moment, puzzled, before the import of her gesture became clear to him.

"Conference room. Now" he managed to croak through a throat suddenly gone dry.

...

Lois watched as Clark's face paled from it's normal olive colouring to an unhealthy looking grey and cringed internally. She should've chosen a gentler way to tell him she knew his secret. In a voice completely unlike his normal tones, he got out a terse command.

"Conference room. Now."

He turned on his heel and she was left following him as best she could. As soon as she was through the glass door he swung it closed. She heard the snick of the lock engaging as he shut the blind with the other hand. Finally he turned to face her, his expression wary.

"Clark, I know" she forestalled him.

"What, exactly, do you know?"

Making sure to keep her voice low, she replied. "I know you're Superman."

He sank down into a chair and closed his eyes. She watched him worriedly. He looked like all his nightmares had come true, and in a way they probably had. He must have spent his entire life trying to hide his powers, and it would've only gotten worse once he became Superman. He couldn't risk any one making the connection between the reporter and the superhero.

Finally she spoke. "Clark?"

He opened his eyes and she could see the fear in them.

"How long have you known?"

"Around... 5 months."

"How?"

"A whole bunch of little things. The disappearances, your crazy excuses. You knowing things you couldn't possibly have known. You leaving Metropolis when Superman was forced out. Superman leaving Metropolis when you moved to France. It just all... kind of fell into place."

He leant forward, his elbows on his knees. "Does-does anyone else know?"

"I don't think so. Superman leaving a few weeks after Clark was a good idea. I only put it together because we'd spent so much time together."

His shoulders relaxed a little and his voice dropped to a whisper.

"Are you mad?"

"I was. I was furious, Clark. And I was hurt." She sighed. "But then I remembered all the times that I compared you unfavourably to Superman, or dismissed you and fawned over him- you- this is really confusing, you know."

One corner of his mouth quirked, the closest thing to a smile she'd seen all day. "I talk about him in the third person sometimes. Mom hates it."

She grinned. She could well imagine Martha Kent's reaction at Clark talking about himself in the third person.

"Anyway, I realised how badly I'd treated you. But I do want to know something, Clark. Why didn't you tell me?"

It was his turn to sigh. "I wanted to. I just- never knew how. By the time we were close enough for me to tell you, things just kept getting in the way." He paused. "I should have told you after Dillinger shot me, but I panicked. Clark Kent was dead, shot in front of an audience... my whole life was just-just gone. I didn't know what else to do, so I went to Smallville. I'm sorry, Lois. I should've told you then. I know you were upset."

He looked so guilty and miserable that her heart went out to him. She reached out and lightly covered his hand with hers.

"It's okay, Clark. And later I'll probably have a million questions." She withdrew her hand, acutely aware of her attraction to him and the closer relationship she craved. Businesslike, she continued. "But right now we have work to do."

"Right." He looked slightly dazed. "The story, right. What next...partner?"

She smiled at him. She'd missed being Clark's partner so much. "Known associates of Mathieu? As head of the Louvre restorations department he has to be reasonably well known, at least in the art world, right?"

He nodded slightly in agreement. "Let's get to work."

...

Clark commandeered the desk nearest Lois' when it's occupant left the building and together they delved into Mathieu's background and known associates, chasing lead after lead and getting... stonewalled.

Frustrated, Clark leant back in his chair.

"I am getting nowhere."

Lois looked up from her computer screen. "Me neither. But there's a reply from Jimmy."

"What does he say?"

"Just that he's working on it and should have the registrations to us tomorrow."

"Right." Clark stood and stretched. "It's after 6. How about I go get us something to eat?"

"Sure" she replied, not looking up from the background information she was studying.

"Chinese?"

"Sounds good." She looked up. "Hey, you know the Chinese you got, that first night at the Planet? It didn't really come from China, did it?"

He smiled. "Shanghai."

As he left the newsroom he heard her grumble "No wonder I could never find the place."

When he returned, arms laden with bamboo containers, he found Lois asleep at her desk, her head pillowed on her arm. He smiled softly at her. He guessed the jet lag had finally caught up with her. After all, with time zone changes she'd been up more than a full twenty four hours. She looked so peaceful, he didn't want to wake her, but he knew she'd get a sore neck sleeping like that. Gently he put his hand on her shoulder and shook her.

"C'mon Lois, you can't sleep like that."

She sat up and looked at him blearily.

"Come on. I'll get you back to your hotel."

After making sure Lois was safely at her hotel and promising to collect her in the morning, Clark ducked into a nearby alleyway. Taking off, he set course for Smallville. It was noon in Kansas. With luck he'd catch his parents at lunch.

Martha Kent heard the tell tale gust of wind that heralded Clark's arrival and smiled. They didn't get to see their only son very often since he'd left the United States. His usually quick step sounded slow and heavy coming up the steps to the porch. She turned in anticipation as she heard the kitchen door swing open and called over her shoulder "Jonathan, Clark's here!"

One look at the heartsick expression on her boy's face was enough to tell her what had been going on in his life. Her heart sank. Both she and Jonathan were fairly certain that Clark was suffering from depression, and it seemed like every time he started to get back to being some semblance of his usual self, something would happen and he'd be back to square one again.

She busied herself greeting her son and making tea. Trying to keep her question as casual as she could, she asked "So. How's Metropolis?"

"I haven't been to Metropolis." He sounded genuinely puzzled.

"But you have seen Lois" Martha persisted, putting the teapot and cups down on the table. It was a given. Every time he saw her, he'd turn up at the farmhouse quiet and sad, looking like he had when he'd come to tell them he was moving to France.

She knew better than to suggest he stop visiting Metropolis, however. He couldn't just ignore emergencies from a city of 12 million people. The problem was, where emergencies were in Metropolis, Lois Lane usually was also.

He nodded, running a hand through his hair. "She's in Paris. On assignment."

"You been working with her, son?" The question came from Jonathan.

"Yeah. You remember the artworks I found in that vault? They've been going missing. I found the story and asked Perry for help, and he sent Lois."

"Did he have to send Lois?" Martha asked, unable to keep the edge out of her voice.

"The original story was hers. And besides, I thought you liked Lois."

"I do like Lois. I just don't like the way she treated you."

"Mom. We've been through this. Lois can't help the way she feels any more than I can"

Privately, Martha didn't think that was the problem. She'd long believed that Lois loved Clark just as much as he loved her, she just either didn't know it or was hiding it for some reason only known to Lois herself. While she had some sympathy for Lois' muddled feelings, it was hurting her boy and her patience was wearing thin.

"When do you go to Vienna?" Jonathan asked after a quelling look at Martha.

"Tomorrow night." He drank some of his tea. "Anyway, there's something I need to talk to you about." He sounded serious. Martha quickly pushed aside her concern for Clark's love life issues. When he didn't continue, she prompted him gently.

"Clark?"

He ran his hand through his hair again, sure sign of internal distress.

"Lois knows. About me. About Superman."

Martha stared at Clark in a mixture of horror and disbelief.

"Did-"

He cut her off.

"Did I tell her? No. She figured it out."

"How long has she known, son?" Jonathan asked.

"Since right after I left Metropolis."

Martha heaved a silent sigh of relief. "Well, then you're safe." She took a sip of her tea. "If she's known for so long and hasn't said anything before, I doubt she'd say anything now. This isn't really a bad thing."

"You're right Mom, it's not. I would've told her eventually anyway, if-" Clark cut himself off this time, continuing in a more subdued tone. "I would have told her anyway." He fell silent, staring reflectively into his mug.

Bridging the awkward gap, Martha asked "So how's working with her again?"

Clark's head came up and for once there was a spark of his normal self in his eyes. "It's great. It's been so long, but we still work really well together. It's like all the fights before I left never happened. I wish I could stick around to finish the story."

"You miss it, don't you?"

"Yeah Dad, I do. Being a foreign correspondent is-fine but-"  
"But it's not what you want to do." Martha finished for him.

"Yeah."

Giving Jonathan a look, Martha went over to the sink, making sure Jonathan followed her, and busied herself washing dishes- giving Clark some much needed space.

…

The dishes done, Jonathan went looking for Clark and found him on the porch, leaning on the rail and staring unseeing out at the barn.

He turned at Jonathan's approach.

"Mom send you?"

"She's just worried, Clark. We both are."

"Yeah. I know, Dad."

He fell silent again. Jonathan let the silence stand for a few minutes before he spoke again.

"So. Lois is in Paris. What are you going to do, Clark?"

"I don't know, Dad. I just don't know."


	4. Chapter 4

After leaving Smallville, Clark flew patrols over Vienna, Moscow, Berlin, Rome and finally Paris. When he'd moved to Europe he'd stopped focussing his time on any one city, hoping to distance Superman further from Clark Kent. He'd also starting handling mainly larger emergencies, reasoning that covering all of Europe meant that he had less time to be able to handle the more day to day stuff.

While he circled over Paris, he puzzled over the story. It had been months since he'd worked on a story that was actually challenging, and he missed it. The kind of reporting he'd been doing... it had its good points. You got to meet a lot of interesting people and travel the world.

But... he'd travelled the world for years before moving to Metropolis. All the places he'd been as part of his current job... he'd already been there. It just didn't have the excitement, the pull of investigative journalism- at least not for him.

Their current story... they'd hit a dead end with Mathieu's background, and the research that Jimmy was doing for them might not pay off. What they needed was a new lead. Then it hit him.

The security cameras.

They hadn't checked to see if the security cameras at the Louvre had been working when the artworks had been stolen. He knew that the majority of the visible security cameras at the famous gallery were dummies, the same as they were in most museums that size. Security camera systems to cover all of the massive gallery were prohibitively expensive as they would require an enormous full time workforce to monitor them all. What museums the size and prestige of the Louvre predominantly relied on was containment security- trapping any would-be thieves and preventing them from escaping with their valuable haul.

He'd bet that the security cameras on entrances and exits would be real, however. Which meant that there might be a chance of him being able to get a hold of the tapes from the days in question.

Changing course, he hovered over the Louvre, high enough to avoid detection. Using his x ray vision, he scanned the enormous former palace and pinpointed the location of the security monitoring room. It would be easy for someone of his unique abilities to get into and out of the monitoring room without detection. All he needed was to be able to find the tape. If he could find it, he could take it back to the Planet, copy it, and return the original to the Louvre with no one the wiser.

He headed for the alleyway nearest his apartment block, hesitating as he passed near to Lois' hotel. She might not appreciate being left out of this particular excursion, but he didn't think he'd be able to get both of them past security and she didn't speak French well enough to be able to bluff her way out of trouble if something went wrong. Regretfully he left her hotel behind.

Touching down in the alley behind his apartment, he changed back into his Clark clothes and went inside.

He was out again in a matter of seconds, this time dressed in form fitting black clothes and knitted cap, the better for hiding in the shadows.

…

Moving faster than the human eye could see, Clark darted past the staff in the restorations department. It had proven easier to enter through the loading dock- just as the thieves had discovered themselves. Now came the difficult part. He had to traverse a section of the public gallery to get to his destination, and he couldn't take a chance that the security cameras he could see were fakes.

At this time of night, the public areas were lit with a low intensity red light, the better to protect the invaluable artworks from the damaging effects of normal lighting. Thankfully his vision was much more acute in low levels of light than a humans would be. He floated carefully a few inches off the floor in case of pressure sensors and made his way along the gallery, avoiding the security cameras as he went.

Up ahead there was a slight creak and a beam of light intruded on his sensitive vision. Quickly Clark levitated further, flattening himself to the roof and holding his breath as the guard passed beneath him. He super sped the rest of the way to the monitoring room door and scanned through it, looking for at least one of the tapes he sought.

Locating one, but not the other, he shifted back into super speed. Moving at faster than detectable speeds, he was in and out of the room with the tape before the guard observing the monitors was aware of his presence.

Once he was safely away from the Louvre complex, Clark stripped off the knitted cap and ran a hand through his hair. He stuffed the cap into his pocket and continued on to the Planet office.

Once there, he borrowed one of the big video recorder units the newspaper owned and quickly ran a copy of the tape. He stashed the copy in the drawer of Lois' desk for safekeeping and went to return the original to its rightful home.

Properly tired for once from the long and eventful day, he finally made his way home to his tiny apartment and collapsed into bed.

…

Clark looked marginally better this morning, Lois noted. The dark circles under his eyes had receded somewhat and he'd actually greeted her with a smile when she'd opened the door of her hotel room at his knock. It was a pale imitation of the megawatt grin she'd seen so many times back in Metropolis , but it was a definite improvement on the grim Clark of yesterday. He'd even brought her a cup of excellent coffee and a chocolate croissant.

She opened the drawer of her desk in the Planet newsroom to deposit her purse and hotel key inside and was surprised to see a videotape. Lifting it out, she found it was unlabelled. Showing it to Clark, she asked

"Do you know anything about this?"

"Oh, that. I put that there last night."

"What is it?"

He came closer, lowering his voice. "It's security camera footage from the Louvre loading dock. From the day the painting went missing."

Her eyes widened. "How did you get this?"

He looked around. "I paid their security office a little... visit."

She gathered that his visit hadn't exactly been sanctioned- and she was willing to bet he'd employed a few of his superpowers to get the tape.

"You stole it?" she asked in amusement.

"Not exactly. I... borrowed it. That's a copy. The original is right where they left it."

"Did anyone see you?"

"He gave her a small smile. "Not unless their equipment is a lot more sensitive than it looks."

She was right, he'd definitely used his powers. Not for the first time, she wondered how often he'd used them on stories in Metropolis. They would certainly give him- them- an edge when it came to investigations, especially the more covert ones they'd embarked on.

"Have you seen it yet?"

"Not yet." He shook his head. "I figured I'd wait for you. It's your story."

"Our story."

Clark shook his head again. "I leave this afternoon, remember? I'm just helping while I'm here."

"About that." She leant back in her chair as far as she was able in the cramped confines. "Do you have to go to Vienna? If there's so many of you going?"

"Yes, I do. Look, we all do different things. Paul does economics. Pierre is our military expert. There's arms talks as part of the summit, so Raoul is covering those. Michelle does trade and Alex is covering the single European currency negotiations."

"What about you? What's your speciality?"

"Clark is our secret weapon." Joe's voice came from behind her. "He's covering all the big sessions. With his language skills, he can translate all the statements and we can get the story out on the wire while the rest of the English speaking papers are still waiting on the official translation."

"Oh." She could see why Joe was anxious for Clark to be at the summit. Every editor she'd ever met thought in terms of scoops, and this one would be a major coup.

"I just came over to see how the story's going" Joe explained.

"Slowly" Clark put in. "But we've got a few leads we're chasing."

"Alright then." He nodded and moved away.

Clark picked the tape up off Lois' desk. "Let's see if there's anything on this."

He led the way to the conference room they'd used yesterday. There was a television with attached VCR on a stand in the corner. Clark went over to the unit and fed the videotape into the appropriate slot.

"Clark?"

"Yeah Lois?"

"Just how many languages do you speak?"

He turned from setting up the television.

"Fluently? Not counting dialects... About 50."

"Fifty!"

"I can get by in more." He went back to looking at the TV set.

She regarded him suspiciously. "How many more?"

"All together... 347. But a lot of those are dialects."

Lois' mind boggled. She couldn't even name 347 languages, let alone speak them.

"Is that one of your powers?" she asked, deliberately keeping her voice low.

He shrugged. "I don't really know. I've always had an ear for languages, and I've travelled a lot. But I don't know if it's a super thing or not."

He pushed a button on the front of the VCR and suddenly a picture appeared on the screen.

"There."

He straightened up from his crouch and took a few steps back to stand next to her. "What time did Pascal say the painting was picked up?"

"Around lunchtime."

"Right." Judging by the time stamp on the screen, this particular tape started at around 9 o'clock in the morning. Clark used the remote to fast forward through the first couple of hours of tape. "I hope I got it all. I used the longest tape I could find to copy the original, but it might not have been enough."

They watched at double speed in silence. Very little activity had been picked up by the camera, mainly the various workers entering and exiting the building on their various errands and breaks. Finally, a worker approached the camera and the feed went dark.

They looked at each other. "What was that?" Lois asked.

"Looks like he covered it with something."

Clark fast forwarded the tape again. Just as suddenly, the feed resumed. All they could see was the slight figure of Pascal staring down the road to the loading dock and the very end of what might have been a white van in the distance.

Clark paused the tape. "There." He pointed to what looked like a shadow at the edge of the screen.

"What?" Lois asked. "That shadow?"

"It's the worker that covered the camera."

He looked at her. "You can't see it?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Clark, all I can see is a blur."

He picked up the remote again, skipping the tape back at the slowest speed possible, then pointed at the screen again. "There. Just his profile, but that might be enough."

Lois moved closer to the television and squinted slightly. There was a very blurry- to her- image of what might be a person's face in profile. "You might be able to see that, but I doubt it's good enough to give us a description."

She turned. Clark had found a piece of printer paper and was sketching rapidly, his glasses halfway down his nose as he looked up at the screen and back down again.

She'd seen him with his glasses halfway down like that many times and never picked up on the significance of the action.

"Why do you do that?"

He looked up at her, his glasses still hanging off the tip of his nose. She stifled a giggle. He looked like an absent minded professor.

"Do what?"

"Pull your glasses down like that."

"Oh." Self consciously he slid them back up. "My vision powers won't work through them."

She looked at him strangely. As Superman, she'd seen him look through- and burn through- materials much tougher than glass, so why would a simple pair of spectacles stop him?

"Why?"

"They're not normal glass- it's lead crystal glass."

"Why lead crystal?"

"I can't see through lead. It was my parents idea. When I first got my powers sometimes I'd have trouble controlling them. The lead crystal stopped me from using them when I didn't mean to."

He stopped drawing and held up the sketch.

"Hopefully that's good enough for us to find the guy."

...

They took the sketch to the Louvre. Heading to the loading dock where Clark had entered the night before, they were prevented from getting inside by an officious security guard who was checking each worker's identification.

By mutual agreement, they retreated to near the end of the road to the loading dock and tried to catch the attention of a passing worker.

It took time and some rapid, persuasive sounding French from Clark, but finally they found a worker who admitted knowing the man in the sketch.

Clark returned looking triumphant.

"Evan Williams", he stated. "He's American, and should be here any moment."

They tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, and soon their patience was rewarded.

"That's him" Lois pointed out.

Clark called out the man's name. He took one look at them and bolted.

"I hate it when they run" Lois commented as they took off after him.

They rounded the corner to see Williams disappear into an alleyway and followed more cautiously.

The alley was littered with detritus of various descriptions. Clark paused at the entrance and retrieved an old tyre. Taking careful aim, he threw it in Williams' direction. It landed around Williams' shoulders, pinning his arms and knocking him to the ground.

Lois stopped in amazement. It was one thing to know that Clark was Superman and another to see him performing superhuman tasks with casual ease. She'd known about his alter ego for months, but somehow seeing him in action made it more real for her in a way it hadn't been before.

She took a couple of deep breaths to steady herself. She couldn't let on to their quarry that there'd been anything unusual about his capture.

Clark stood the captive back on his feet. Close to, Lois realised that Williams was little more than a kid, a college junior at the oldest.

"We just want to ask you a couple of questions" he told Williams

"You cops?"

"No. We're reporters." Clark pulled out his press pass and showed the younger man.

"I don't have to talk to you" Williams said belligerently.

Lois stepped forward. "No, you don't. But we found you on a security tape." She looked at Clark. "Do you think the police might be interested in that tape?"

"I think so."

She leant closer to the struggling man. "So here's the deal. You tell us what we want to know, and the tape disappears. If you don't talk to us, the tape ends up at the nearest police station."

The youth hesitated.

Lois turned and started to walk away.

"Okay, okay."

She took the few steps back to their quarry."You'll talk?"

"Yeah. Just get this thing off me."

Clark lifted the tyre off the smaller man. "Start talking" he advised.

"Look, I don't know much. This guy, he comes to me and says he'll pay me to cover the outside camera for half an hour between 11.30 and midday three days ago."

"How much?"

"30000 francs."

Clark let out a low whistle.

"Yeah. I dropped out of college and I'm out of money to get back home. I need the cash. So, I said I'd do it. $5000 just for covering a camera? It was easy money."

"The guy who paid you. What did he look like?" Lois asked.

The younger man thought for a moment. "He was French. Tall, kind of heavy, you know? Blond hair, green eyes. Looked like he'd been n a few fights."

"How tall?" Clark asked.

"Taller than you. Maybe six three, six four, somewhere around there."

"How old?"

"Late forties, I'd guess. Listen, can I go now? I need this job."

Clark put a hand on Williams' shoulder, stopping him from leaving.

"One more thing. Why'd you run from us?"

"Oh. I thought you were cops. I'm on a student visa, see. I'm not supposed to be working."

Clark lifted his hand and let him go, then turned to Lois.

"Sound like anyone you know?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No. I think we might have hit another dead end." He checked his watch. "I'm running out of time."

…

Back at the office, Lois made a beeline for her desk. Logging on to the computer, she opened the email program. It was along shot considering the time difference, but...

"Yes" she exclaimed under her breath.

"Clark leant on the edge of her desk.

"What is it?"

"Jimmy sent the registration list through."

"He's in early" Clark commented.

"Or late." They exchanged looks. It was unlike Jimmy to go home before Perry did, and they both knew the editor-in-chief's work ethic. It was entirely possible that neither Perry or Jimmy had gone home.

Lois opened the file attached to Jimmy's email and sent it to the printer. A few moments later they heard the unmistakeable sound of a dot matrix printer coming to life.

"Hopefully we'll find something in that-" Clark's head snapped up and he looked off into the distance.

"Lois, I've gotta go."

"What? Go where?"

Her questions fell on thin air. Clark was already gone.

Behind her, someone called out "Hey turn that up!"

She got up and went to see what the fuss was. On the television set mounted above the bullpen was a news program. A 'special report' banner scrolled along the bottom of the screen, and the picture showed a plethora of emergency vehicles on airport tarmac.

"What's going on?" she asked the person nearest to her.

"An aeroplane is trying to land at Orly without engines."

There was a pause in the rapid flow of French from the television, then Lois caught the phrase "Superman est arrive."

She breathed a sigh of relief. That must have been where Clark had gone.

Dimly she was aware of reporters leaving, rushing to get to the scene- and the story. At home she would be one of them, but now she stayed where she was. She watched as the jumbo jet came into view, the enormous bulk of the aircraft dwarfing the red and blue figure beneath its fuselage.

It was hard to reconcile the man that performed all these amazing feats with the kind, unassuming gentle man who'd worked beside her for two years. When she saw him do something like land an aeroplane- like he was doing now, she saw on the screen- she still felt a sense of awe. It was odd to think that it was done by the same man she'd shared pizza and Lethal Weapon movies with.

She watched as he settled the plane onto the tarmac and waved to the pilots, hidden behind their cockpit glass. Then he flew off, without talking to the assembled reporters- or exchanging greetings with the plane load of rescued passengers.

That was strange, she thought. When he'd had time in Metropolis, he'd always stayed long enough to at least check his rescuees were okay. He'd even had photos taken with many of them. Here, it was apparently a different story. The unusual grimness she'd noticed in Clark obviously extended to his behaviour as Superman.

Thoughtfully, she settled back down at her desk.

Clark had always been quick to laugh- a low chuckling sound that sent thrills up and down her spine- and even quicker to smile. But she'd been in Paris a full day and barely seen him smile. And she hadn't heard him laugh once. Lois had never seen a truly unhappy Clark. If he was that miserable, why didn't he just come home? Perry had never replaced him, so getting a job wouldn't be a problem.

"Excuse me."

The voice from beside her snapped her out of her reverie. Next to her desk, a paunchy, balding reporter that Clark had pointed out as one of the other foreign correspondents was watching her, an enquiring look on his face.

"You are Lois, yes?" He had a slight French accent that reminded her of Claude. She suppressed a shiver.

"That's right."

"I am Pierre. I am travelling to Vienna this afternoon with Clark and I wanted to see how he was getting to the airport. Do you know where he is?"

"Ah... He went to pick up uh...his dry cleaning. His dry cleaning, yes" she stumbled over the explanation.

Pierre gave her an odd look. "Okay. When he returns, can you tell him I am looking for him?"

"Sure."

"Suddenly I know why all of his excuses are so flimsy", she muttered under her breath. It was harder to think of them on the spot than she thought it would be, and she didn't even have the distraction of trying to get somewhere in a hurry. Lois collected the bulky printout from the printer and settled down to start reading through it, keeping one eye out for Clark's return.

When an hour had passed without him coming back she put down the stack of papers. She'd been unable to concentrate on them anyway, being too busy wondering where he was. The plane rescue hadn't taken that long.

Grabbing her purse out of the drawer, she left in search of a decent coffee.

Walking back towards the Planet building, she heard familiar footsteps fall into step beside her and turned her head.

"Hey. I was wondering where you'd gotten to."

...

"Sorry. There was an explosion in Italy."

It had been a bomb actually, one of the local terrorist groups protesting... something by blowing up a cafe. Six people had died, and for what? His jaw clenched. Such a waste. The pointless loss of life both angered and frustrated him.

"Pierre was looking for you. He wanted to know how you're getting to the airport."

He nodded absently, his mind still on the appalling scene in the bombed out cafe in Bologna.

She laid her hand on his arm, bringing him back to the present. "Clark? Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine, Lois."

She surprised him by shaking her head. "No. No, you're not, Clark." She paused. "Is this what you really want? Not having a place to call your own? Bouncing from country to country all the time? You're miserable here Clark, I can see it. And we miss you in Metropolis. I miss you." She smiled at him. "Come home, Clark. I need my best friend back."

He stopped in his tracks, his shoulders drooping. He wanted to go back so badly. He missed Metropolis, working at the Planet, missed Perry and Jimmy… but most of all he missed Lois, so much that it had become almost a physical ache.

But the ache was nowhere near as bad as the daily torture of spending almost every waking minute with her and not being able to express how he felt about her.

Ahead of him, Lois had realised he was no longer keeping pace with her and had turned back, her smile fading into a questioning look.

"Clark?"

"I can't, Lois."

"Why not?"

"You want your best friend back. And I just can't do it any more. I can't go back to being just Clark, your friend and partner. I can't go back to pretending I'm not hopelessly in love with you."

It was the first time he'd admitted that he loved her since before her engagement to Luthor. She stared at him in shock.

"Look, Lois, I know you don't feel the same way. And it's okay. I accepted that a long time ago." He watched her uneasily. "Lois, say something."

"Fine. You say you love me. Why should I believe you? You left, Clark."

"Yes, I left. I left because it was too painful to stay! Do you have any idea what it's like, to work and spend time with the one person you've ever loved and know they don't feel the same way? To see you with Dan when I'd give anything- anything- to be in his shoes?" His shoulders sagged. "And- I hoped that if I left, maybe it would get easier. That maybe if I didn't see you every day I might start to get over you."

"Has it worked?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head. "No." He didn't think anything ever would.

"This is all my fault" she murmured.

He started to reassure her but she cut him off.

"When you asked me out, last year... I panicked. I've never been in a relationship that hasn't been a federal disaster, Clark. And then you asked me out and I couldn't risk it. You're my best friend. Every guy I've ever gone out with, I've wound up hating them and I didn't want that to happen with you." She took a deep breath. "So I said no and told myself that it'd be okay, you'd get over it and I'd get to keep my best friend. When you left, I took it as a sign that I was right..."

Clark listened with a growing sense of anger and disbelief. All this... Because she was scared? He'd been going through hell, because she'd panicked?

"Why couldn't you just tell me that?! I left my job, my friends and my home... I've been miserable for 6 months, Lois!" He took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down. As quickly as it had risen, the spike of anger disappeared.

Softening his voice, he continued "I wish you had told me, Lois. I would've told you that I'm scared too."

Her head came up. "But Clark, you're Su-" she cut herself off, looking around and lowering her voice. "You go into burning buildings and- and eat bombs and lift rockets into orbit!"

"That's different. Mayson told me once that Superman isn't heroic because the things he does doesn't require him to risk anything. And she was right. I rescue people knowing that I won't get hurt. I don't risk anything by going in to burning buildings or- or catching aeroplanes. But asking you out? I was scared. No matter what you said, our relationship would change. You're the best friend I've ever had, Lois. I don't have many people that I can truly call a friend. And I knew I was risking that. Even if you had said yes, if you'd felt even a little of what I feel for you, that possibility scared me too. I've never let anyone in before, Lois. I've had to spend my whole life keeping everyone at arms length because of what I am. Letting anyone, even you, get that close is- is terrifying."

He sighed. "I decided it was worth the risk, but it still took me a long time to work up the courage." Awareness of what he'd been saying struck him and he gave a bitter, mirthless laugh.

"I've done it again."

"Done what?" she asked, puzzled.

"I told myself I'd never do this again, that it hurts too much. But yet again I've laid myself out in front of you." He smiled sadly. "That's the last time, Lois. I love you. I always have. But..." He sighed again, his shoulders drooping. "I wish you hadn't come."

Heavy hearted, he walked away, blocking out the sound of her calling his name. Ducking into a nearby alleyway, he changed into the Suit and took off in the direction of the airport. He'd come back for his luggage later. Right now he needed to get to Vienna.


End file.
